


Paris Is My Hometown

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic 2020 [84]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, M/M, Post-World War I, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26822632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: LJ Comment Fic for 2000s Songs:Stargate Atlantis, Any/Any, "Be With You" (Enrique Igleseas 2000)In which Evan gets bad news about his grandmother and is conflicted about going back to see his family.
Relationships: Evan Lorne/Parrish
Series: Bite Sized Fic 2020 [84]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610332
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	Paris Is My Hometown

Evan sat on the roof, the tiny flat space next to the pitch crowded with chairs left by former tenants. He couldn’t see the Seine from that side, but he had a nice view of other rooftops, and the Eiffel Tower in the distance. It had become so familiar to him, but at the same time retained the ineffable magic that came from living in Paris.

How could he possibly leave?

“There you are.” David climbed through the window and sat in the chair next to Evan’s, stretching out his long legs. “I wish there was room for a potted garden up here.”

Evan nodded but didn’t say anything, gaze still fixed on the horizon. Germany was out there, across the border. It was the reason he’d come to Paris in the first place, to start over after the war. He’d wanted to try and make sense of everything he’d seen and been part of.

“I saw the telegram,” David said.

The PTB had delivered it early that afternoon, the message on it very clear if not overly wordy.

_Gram dying. Come home._

“You have to go.” David reached over and put his hand on Evan’s thigh. There was dirt under his fingernails from repotting plants on the terrace below. “I know how much your family means to you.”

Evan had a sketchbook filled with studies he’d done of his mother, his sister, his Gram. Of the collective they all lived on with other families, what the newspapers called an ‘intentional community’. He’d shared it all with David.

“Did I ever tell you Gram used to be a lighthouse operator when she was in her twenties? She lived there all alone. Used the time to write a novel.”

“Did she ever publish it?”

Evan shook his head. “No. But she kept it in a box, and sometimes she’d read us excerpts. The parts she said weren’t too racy.”

He already felt the grief of her loss, though she wasn’t yet gone and he hadn’t seen her in over two years. Gram was larger than life to him. She’d traveled the entirety of the United States, had worked as a newspaper reporter in addition to the lighthouse gig and a stint as the leader of the local suffrage society. Gram had been arrested several times in the course of seeking the right to vote. Widowed very young, she’d raised Evan’s mother on her own. All the women in Evan’s family were fiercely independent.

“I’m sorry,” David said.

“No-one can live forever,” Evan sighed. “No matter how much we may want them to.”

The world would be poorer without Bertie Hawk in it, with her belly laughs and inappropriate jokes and the pastries she made that Evan would put up against anything from a Parisian bakery.

“I don’t know if I can go,” he said softly. 

“You need the chance to say goodbye,” David replied. He reached for Evan’s hand and curled their fingers together.

“No, it’s not…I love my family. I really do. But they don’t know the real me. I can’t _be_ the real me there.”

Paris had freed him – from the conventions of society, from his mother’s expectations, from his own fears – and he didn’t know if he could ever go back. California wasn’t his home anymore. He’d found a new family, a close-knit group of friends who knew him better than his mother or his sister ever could.

He’d found David.

“Would they reject you? If they knew?”

“I don’t know,” Evan replied honestly. “I’ve always been too afraid to even think about it.”

Even the freest of thinkers had their stumbling blocks. Race, religion, gender. Sexuality. It was easier to live in self-exile than be pushed away.

“You should let them see you,” David said, squeezing his hand. “Give them the chance to love you as you are.”

Evan knew David’s own family hadn’t been very kind to him, except for the cousin he was closest to. Yet he still believed people were basically good and kind, and just because his family had let him down didn’t mean Evan’s necessarily would.

“You have a big heart,” Evan said. 

He leaned over and kissed David, let himself sink into that warm, tender mouth. David gave everything of himself, without question, and asked for nothing in return. He was a good man.

“Let me come with you,” David said, resting his forehead against Evan’s. “I can be your little piece of Paris so you don’t get homesick.”

Evan closed his eyes against the sudden burn of tears.

“I’d really like that.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Title from a quote by Gertrude Stein: “America is my country, and Paris is my home town.”


End file.
